


Soaring high on clipped wings

by Vasilisian



Series: Daily Drabbles [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Let the Quidditch season begin!, Slytherin doesn't play nice on a good day, Warning: this gets a little bloody, did you know that the first match of the year is usually Gryffindor vs Slytherin?, this is not a good day, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vasilisian/pseuds/Vasilisian
Summary: The first match of the year draws closer, and then arrives. Jennie isn't sure if she's ready for it, but life waits for no one.





	Soaring high on clipped wings

It almost appeared as if everyone had forgotten about the broom incident as November started, right until the date for the first Quidditch match of the year was posted in the common-rooms. Staring at the notice on the announcement board, Jennie both dreaded and looked forward to the match. There was no doubt that Charlie was going to dominate the match, but getting flattened right into the season would not help her standing with the house.

There was an air of tension during breakfast, the Gryffindors crowding around their team as if curses were going to start flying any minute, and Jennie decided it would be in her best interest to keep her head down for the week leading up to the match. Slytherin's next match would be in January, and Gryffindor wouldn't play until after Valentine's Day, so hopefully things would have calmed down by then.

Which left her with the upcoming match to survive. Most of the house was focused on the tense rivalry with Gryffindor, but a few people remembered her stunt. Like Alexander, for example. He couldn't bother her himself unless he wanted to risk Gerald's wrath, but there was nothing stopping him from setting the fourth-years on her.

Ducking under the jinx and winching at the yelp of the unlucky student walking in front of her, Jennie ran the last few yards to the History of Magic classroom, ignoring both the commotion behind her and the stares of the students already inside with practised ease. Taking her usual seat next to one of the windows, Jennie pulled out her potions essay and an empty parchment to keep track of the subject Binns mentions for her to look up later.

Trying to pay attention in his class was impossible. Her record was thirteen minutes before falling asleep, and that was after making the mistake of drinking coffee at breakfast in an attempt to stay awake. Instead she'd turned it into a free work hour to work on her essays, with all the actual learning of history done later with the help of the library.

Well, essays and the occasional nap when she felt like it. There was a good reason History of Magic had been one of her lowest grades last year.

 

–

 

Jennie grabbed one of the green and silver flags from the box as she left the common-room, stuck it in her pocket and followed the wave of green to the Great Hall. She was barely able to focus on eating, excitement humming in her veins, all thoughts of nerves forgotten. It was the same feeling that she'd gotten hooked on in first year, and it was the reason she wanted to be on the team so badly.

Just being surrounded by the energy was amazing, but Jennie knew from the moment she saw the players take off a year ago that she'd never be satisfied with sitting in the stands. She wanted to be up there, dodging bludgers and weaving through the air in pursuit of the Snitch. She wanted to hear the cheers and the boos, feel the blood rushing through her veins as her hand closed around that coveted golden ball.

This year was supposed to be her chance to prove herself, even if only as part of the Reserve team, but Alexander had turned her away without even letting her touch a broom. He'd seen her fly, had seen her spend hours in the air catching and releasing the practice Snitch, he  _ knew _ she was better than Greg, and still he refused to swallow his pride and let her try out for the team.

She left early, determined to get a good spot even if she couldn't play, snagging a front seat in the raised box. The match wouldn't start for another hour or so, breakfast hadn't even been winding down when she'd left, but Jennie didn't mind the wait. That's why she'd brought a copy of Intermediate Transfiguration. 

Madam Pince would kill her if she found out Jennie had taken a library book to a Quidditch match,  but her box was on the opposite side of the field from the teachers box. And it wasn't like the woman ever went to any of the Quidditch matches, she hated the sport as far as Jennie knew. How the woman hadn't keeled over from lack of fun yet was a mystery.

Jennie knew breakfast had ended when students started flooding into the stands, packing away her book and pulling out her little flag, waving it back and forth excitedly in front of her. The other Slytherins next to her waved their own flags, someone even producing a banner out of nowhere. A piercing whistle rang out, and the two teams walked onto the field to the sound of cheering. Jennie whooped loudly, punching the air with her flag, leaning closer to the railing.

They met in the middle where Madam Hooch was waiting. A few seconds later the bludgers were released along with the Snitch, and Jennie missed the start as she tried to keep track of the little gold orb. She lost it after it darted into the crowd, and then the match sucked her in.

 

–

 

Slytherin was a tough opponent, not because they were especially skilled, but because they played rough. Jennie hissed as two bludgers smashed into of the the Gryffindor chasers, sending the girl to the ground slumped on her spinning broom. A reserve was in the before she'd even landed, Gryffindor scoring a point in the distraction. Booing loudly at the foul, Jennie grinned when the point was subtracted since the reserve hadn't waited for the whistle.

“Serves you right, you cheating bastards! Take your points and choke on 'em! Honourable lions my ass.” The student next to her leaned away, frowning.

“I thought you were in with the Gryffindors?” Jennie spit over the side, grinning wildly when she got one of the beaters in the neck.

“I'm not for Gryffindor, I'm against a specific Slytherin that made me angry. Doesn't mean I have to root for those red idiots, now, do I? Break his nose!” She didn't know whether the Slytherin beater heard her or not, but he did 'accidentally' miss the bludger and nail an opposing beater in the face, and Madam Hooch didn't even call foul.

Probably because she'd been distracted breaking the fight that had broken out near the Slytherin hoops involving their keeper, second beater and two Gryffindor chasers. Again Gryffindor scored in the distraction, and again Madam Hooch reversed it, since the game had technically been on pause while she deal with the brawl.

What an absolute mess, she loved this game. The seekers were just about the only ones left untouched by the battlefield that was the lower level, except, yeah, no. Greg had just dive-bombed Charlie for no reason. Jennie didn't know where the Snitch was, but there was no way the Gryffindor would have missed it if it was hovering next to his head.

But rather than crashing into the third-year, Greg instead shot past him as Charlie jerked to the side at the last second in a move that took Jennie's breath away. It brought him right next to the raised stand, and Jennie imagined she could almost touch him if she reached out. He looked good, comfortable in the air in a way she'd never seen him be on the ground, and any remaining regret at buying him that broom shrivelled away.

His eyes narrowed and dove, shooting down with incredible speed. Jennie shrieked and jumped up to look over the railing just in time to see him pull up, a golden glint held triumphantly in his hand.

Gryffindor went mad, hollering and cheering at the top of their lungs, while Jennie slumped back into her seat, one hand held to her chest. Jesus, he'd been mere feet away from the ground when he'd pulled up. No matter how skilled he was, the Nimbus wouldn't have been able to handle a steeper curve than that. And at those speeds, he would have been lucky if he didn't break his neck.

And this was who she had to beat next year?

 


End file.
